Darcy’s Winter Delight – Chapter 1

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One snowed-in night reveals the depth of Elizabeth’s desire and all Mr. Darcy will do to fulfill it…

When Lady Catherine’s misguided marital advice leads Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy to flee Rosings, the loving couple find themselves in a cottage, snowed in, together. One night will reveal the depths of Elizabeth’s desire and all Mr. Darcy will do to fulfill it. But what of Elizabeth’s secret?

Find out in Darcy’s Winter Delight, a steamy Pride and Prejudice variation guaranteed to keep you hot and bothered, turning pages, to a very happy ending.

If you love steamy Pride and Prejudice variations, start reading Darcy’s Winter Delight now!

Chapter 1

This gets very steamy after this chapter. Enjoy!

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy sat across from Lady Catherine, cradling a cup of lukewarm tea as she shifted on the finely upholstered yet unyielding chair of the lady’s ostentatious drawing room. Portraits stared down in flat-eyed judgment. Every surface was covered in finery: elaborate plaster molding along the ceiling, lace clothes over the tables scattered with statuary that seemed caught in a perpetual state of flight. Elizabeth wished to flee with them, but marriage required certain niceties; honoring her husband’s family – now her family – amongst the height of them.

“One cannot doubt the propriety of your courtship, considering it is nearly spring, and you have shared no indication that you might be with child, Mrs. Darcy.” Lady Catherine took a sip from her tea.

Elizabeth clenched her teacup and tried, without success, not to imagine it was Lady Catherine’s neck.

“Aunt Catherine,” Elizabeth said, smiling with all of her teeth. “I cannot imagine how any might suspect the slightest impropriety of my husband.”

Lady Catherine pressed her lips together as she always did when Elizabeth acknowledged their current relation. It was one of the few pleasures Elizabeth could claim of this visit.

If Elizabeth had been given leave to do as she wished, she would have stayed with Charlotte. While Mr. Collins had only grown more obsequious since Elizabeth’s marriage, his mingled awe at Elizabeth’s rise and his gratitude at how her elevation affected his own status made it easier to dismiss him in short order. Elizabeth did not have the same freedom to dismiss Lady Catherine. Aunt Catherine.

Where was Fitzwilliam? He had left the previous afternoon for Town on an affair of business with the promise to return straightaway.

“I do so wish to hear the laughter of babes again, soon, I hope. Your mother certainly was blessed with a fecund womb. You are aware of the process—?”

“Well aware.” The last thing Elizabeth wanted was an explanation of the process from Lady Catherine.

“And you are facing your heads to the north when you perform the act? I was certain to have the headboards of your rooms placed in the correct direction, you understand, considering the favoring of your mother’s womb for female offspring.”

Elizabeth shut her eyes. It explained why hers and Mr. Darcy’s beds in the guest rooms were placed at an odd slant. “We shall be happy with any child with which God graces us,” Elizabeth said, smothering a sigh. How much longer must she endure this visit? Triple drat on Fitzwilliam for abandoning her here to make small talk with Lady Catherine.

“Of course. But Fitzwilliam needs an heir, and a man always pines for a son.”

“We have taken all care,” Elizabeth said. She and Fitzwilliam had made love with the headboards at their heads, feet, rears, and on one occasion to the side while her husband held her against the wall and…

Elizabeth sighed, this time out loud.

“Do not despair,” Lady Catherine said. “I am certain there will be news soon. Very soon, if I am not mistaken.” Her gaze pinned Elizabeth who realized Lady Catherine’s discussion of Elizabeth’s future children was not due to fear of barrenness, but an attempt to draw a confession from Elizabeth before she had revealed her condition to her husband!

Lady Catherine continued, “If there is no news soon…” Again, the sharp gaze. Lady Catherine rivaled her statues in focused stares. “We shall have the doctor over to bleed you and—”

Under no accounts would Elizabeth allow herself to be bled. Her mother had birthed five children with neither bleeding nor limiting her food, and she had recovered far more swiftly than Lady Lucas who had endured both. If Fitzwilliam suggested such a thing, she would refuse, blast the consequences.

What if Fitzwilliam tried such things? What if he forbade her morning walks? Elizabeth did not know how his family felt towards childbirth, nor what they expected of her. She did not wish to invite disharmony into her marriage. Elizabeth swallowed. Her stomach twisted and a wave of nausea passed over her, reminiscent of this morning where she had spent half an hour spitting into the chamber pot.

“There will be a storm tonight, mark my words,” Lady Catherine said.

Sun streamed through the large window behind the lady. Above, wispy clouds floated in a sea of blue.

“A storm?”

Lady Catherine lifted her right foot from where it had been crossed over her left ankle. “I sprained it when I was a young girl. An old injury can be a blessing, they say. It has never steered me wrong regarding weather. A storm is coming,” she declared. “A large one. We shall be snowbound for three days at least.”

“How fortunate,” Elizabeth said, more to fill the silence. Miss Anne was involved with her pianoforte. Lady Catherine had promised a performance from her daughter later that afternoon, which was, to Elizabeth’s relief, one of the rare occasions where Lady Catherine stopped dispensing advice. Elizabeth looked forward to it. Unless they could get away beforehand. Her husband’s business in Town was complete, and they had stayed long enough for basic politeness.

Through the window came the welcome sight of a carriage approaching.

“Has my husband returned?” Elizabeth stood, praying it was so. If Lady Catherine was right, and a storm was coming, they should leave before it arrived. Elizabeth did not wish to spend any length of time snowed in with Lady Catherine. With good fortune, Elizabeth could convince her husband to leave first thing in the morning.

“Already?” Lady Catherine looked over her shoulder. “He will be ten minutes at least. You must not exhaust yourself. An overtired body is unwelcoming to the seed, you understand.”

Elizabeth did not, nor did she wish to. “I am well enough.”

“Mrs. Darcy!”

“I must freshen up.” Elizabeth put the tea down on the table beside the tray of seasonal fruits. “Excuse me.”

Elizabeth curtsied and fled back to her rooms. She hadn’t much freshening to do: a visit to the necessary, a splash of rose water, and a quick adjustment of her hair. She wished she could set Lady Catherine straight. Her courses were not always regular, but now three months late, a sign that she might soon have a happy announcement; but if she were mistaken or if something went wrong, an early confession would be disastrous. Besides, heaven knew what Lady Catherine would subject Elizabeth to if she were with child. Bleeding, as she had threatened, and likely worse.

Heavens, she wished to leave, sooner rather than later. A near fortnight in Lady Catherine’s home was enough to drive even Jane to madness, not that Jane was unfortunate enough to be forced to endure it.

Elizabeth rested her palm over her belly a moment before leaving the rooms to meet her husband at the front entranceway. The carriage had just pulled up. Miss Anne stood outside with her companion, and both greeted Mr. Darcy as he stepped down from the carriage.

Though Lady Catherine had been heartbroken at her nephew’s rejection of Miss Anne, the young woman herself seemed no worse for the disappointment. Elizabeth had suspected Miss Anne favored Col. Fitzwilliam, not that either acknowledged the young woman’s affection. Elizabeth was much relieved. If Miss Anne had encouraged her mother’s animosity, this visit would have been even more difficult to endure.

Fitzwilliam’s gaze caught Elizabeth’s, and her breath caught in her throat as it had every time they reunited from even a few hours apart. His dark hair was mussed, his traveling clothes rumpled, and faint stubble shadowed his jaw. Elizabeth smiled. “Mr. Darcy,” she said, walking to him and taking his hand. She wished to put her arms about his waist and draw him into a kiss, but not under Miss Anne’s gaze. 

“Mrs. Darcy.” A soft exhalation followed Fitzwilliam’s claiming of her. He squeezed her hand.

“I have missed you,” Elizabeth said. Some believed it foolish to be so forward in acknowledging how much one missed their husband, fearing too demanding an affection might drive a man to take a mistress. Elizabeth knew from the focus of her husband’s gaze and how he slipped his arm beneath hers, pulling her closer so she could smell the mix of sandalwood and faint tobacco from his clothes, he shared her affection. Desire. She should tell him soon about the child. Perhaps when they had returned to Pemberley, where Lady Catherine and her north-facing headboards and threats to drain Elizabeth’s blood were too far away to matter.

“Is your business finished?” Elizabeth asked.

Fitzwilliam smiled. “Yes. Bingley was absent, unfortunately.”

“Fitzwilliam!” A footman stepped aside from the entranceway, holding the door open for Lady Catherine to step outside. The air was chilly for spring, though not cold enough for the fur hat and muff atop the thick, heavily embroidered gown in which Lady Catherine descended the staircase towards the carriage. “Nephew, it is a relief your business in Town is finished. How awful of your steward to trouble you suddenly with such trifles. Why you might have been caught in the storm!”

“Storm?” Fitzwilliam squinted up at the sky. “I see no sign of a storm.”

“It will be a day or so, or perhaps a week, judging by the throbbing of my ankle.”

Elizabeth met her husband’s gaze. His eyes flicked upwards, a brief gesture but one Elizabeth well understood as amusement. He put little stock in the predictive powers of his aunt’s ankle. A relief. As much as she wished to leave, Elizabeth had little desire to be on the road in a spring squall. She lowered her chin, the briefest nod, and the left corner of his lips raised in the briefest acknowledgement.

Incredible how a few short months of marriage had given Elizabeth such a wealth of tools with which to know her husband’s feelings. The slightest flick of an eyebrow, the twitch of lips or fingers, and the movement of his gaze revealed a wealth of emotions. Elizabeth wondered how she had ever thought him cold.

“What was this business,” Lady Catherine asked. “Nothing too troubling, I hope.”

“Not at all.” The left side of his lips raised again. “There was a most pleasant outcome.”

“Do tell,” Lady Catherine said.

“It is a surprise.”

Lady Catherine rubbed her gloved palms together. “I love surprises.”

“For my wife.”

“I see.”  Lady Catherine’s gaze had a calculating glint.

Goosebumps rose on Elizabeth’s arms. “You must be tired, Fitzwilliam. Perhaps a rest?”

“Fitzwilliam is fine,” Lady Catherine cut in. “It is his wife he should be concerned about. Considering her delicate state.”

The harridan! “Delicate?” Elizabeth could not find words that were not blasphemous. She choked on an oath she had heard her father shout more than once, stumbling over a fallen book in the darkness.  

“Elizabeth?” Fitzwilliam’s eyes widened. “How is it—?”

Elizabeth stepped back while her husband sputtered.

“I— You kept this from me!”

“I kept nothing from you!” Elizabeth was not certain herself. And had she been, she would not have revealed herself to Lady Catherine.

“Your wife has put on at least a quarter stone since the wedding. I would have thought with so many sisters, younger sisters, she would understand the signs within herself.”

All thoughts of charity towards Lady Catherine or familial obligation fluttered from Elizabeth’s mind like dying leaves tossed up by a fierce wind. Elizabeth said, “If I was to determine myself likely with child, I would first speak with my husband before bringing such news to the attention of society.”

“Society, Lizzie?” Lady Catherine smiled with obvious relish. “We are family, are we not?”

“Aunt Catherine— Lizzie—?” Fitzwilliam’s head turned to his aunt and then his wife. Miss Anne leaned towards her companion and whispered something, her nose wrinkling as her brows lowered.

“I wish to return to Pemberley,” Elizabeth said, pulling her shoulders back and lifting her chin with as much pride as she could muster. Lady Catherine attempted to ruin everything. It was only pure luck, or perhaps Elizabeth’s own defiant nature, that had kept the old bat from robbing Elizabeth of her husband and a chance at love. Under no circumstances would Elizabeth allow Lady Catherine’s meddling to steal away the most important revelation of their marriage.

Fitzwilliam said, “Lizzie, there is no need to be rash—”

“I will not stay here, not another minute,” Elizabeth said. She would walk to Charlotte’s and send a letter to her aunt and uncle in Town for a carriage if Fitzwilliam tried to keep them in this wretched house another day. Or, if necessary, she would take a public coach.

“Mrs. Darcy is most certainly with child,” Lady Catherine declared. “It is the only explanation for this outburst.”

Elizabeth choked on fury. She could not find words through her rage, which came out as an ugly, growling cough. She took a step away from Lady Catherine, her gaze fixed on the stairs and door behind her.

“Lizzie, wait!” Fitzwilliam grabbed for Elizabeth who pulled her hand away and, skirting Lady Catherine, ran into Rosings.

A footman swung open the door as Lady Catherine shouted, “Hold her!”

The footman made a half-hearted attempt to grab for her which Elizabeth, neither softened nor slowed by marriage or a possible child, sidestepped.

The footman’s lips twitched as he paused, flicking his fingers towards the main hall before taking a slow step after.

Elizabeth thanked the man—thin and long jawed with thick, fair hair mingled with gray—in her mind. But she dared not slow until she arrived, breath heaving, in her temporary rooms and, without calling for a servant, began throwing her most important clothes onto the bed to pack.

V. L. King's Books Are Available Via:

You Are Reading:

One snowed-in night reveals the depth of Elizabeth’s desire and all Mr. Darcy will do to fulfill it…

When Lady Catherine’s misguided marital advice leads Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy to flee Rosings, the loving couple find themselves in a cottage, snowed in, together. One night will reveal the depths of Elizabeth’s desire and all Mr. Darcy will do to fulfill it. But what of Elizabeth’s secret?

Find out in Darcy’s Winter Delight, a steamy Pride and Prejudice variation guaranteed to keep you hot and bothered, turning pages, to a very happy ending.

If you love steamy Pride and Prejudice variations, start reading Darcy’s Winter Delight now!

Read More:

Steamy Pride and Prejudice Variations - Darcy's Winter Delight Graphic

Darcy’s Winter Delight – Chapter 1

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy sat across from Lady Catherine, cradling a cup of lukewarm tea as she shifted on the finely upholstered yet unyielding chair of the lady’s ostentatious drawing room. Portraits stared down in flat-eyed judgment. Every surface was covered in finery: elaborate plaster molding along the ceiling, lace clothes over the tables scattered with statuary that seemed caught in a perpetual state of flight. Elizabeth wished to flee with them, but marriage required certain niceties; honoring her husband’s family – now her family – amongst the height of them.

Read More »

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When a naughty Mrs. Darcy finds her husband sleepwalking, she seizes the opportunity to fulfill both their desires. But what happens when he wakes?

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy knows her husband has a secret. Why else would he curb his passion and flee their marital bed every night? When she finds him walking in his sleep, and his hidden passion is unleashed, naughty Elizabeth seizes the opportunity to fulfil both their desires. But what happens when he wakes?

Find out in Darcy’s Hidden Desire, a steamy Pride and Prejudice variation of 11,500 words of romance, passion, and, of course, a sensual HEA. Perfect for an evening read.

Grab Darcy’s Hidden Desire at the links below!

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Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous – Chapter 2

Darcy's Stolen Rendezvous Graphic
Days
Hours
Minutes
Seconds
Darcy's Stolen Rendezvous Cover

Abduction. Rescue. Can passion heal their wounds?

Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy enjoy meeting in secret as master and mistress. But when Elizabeth is abducted on the road to their rendezvous, can Mr. Darcy find his wife in time? And if so, will passion heal their wounds?

Find out in Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous, a steamy Pride and Prejudice variation of 11,500 words, filled with danger, romance, and sensual moments between our favorite couple, all perfect for an evening read. 

Note: This is a sequel to Mrs. Darcy’s Masque Seduction. Each story stands alone, but are even better together. 

If you love sensual Pride & Prejudice variations, grab Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous today!

Chapter 2

Mr. Darcy arrived early at the posting inn, his body tingling with anticipation of meeting his mistress and wife. It had been ten days since he had kissed her, ten days since he had brought her to shuddering pleasure, and ten days since he had lost himself in her glorious heat. Ten days was ten days too long, handling business in town which he could have ignored.

Especially Wickham’s hair-brained shipping scheme.

Darcy had arranged for the best room the posting inn had, and after paying his fees and having a footman put his things in his room, he went to the waiting area to have coffee and await Miss Eliza, his wife and mistress.

An hour became two and three. The storm, which had threatened, unleashed fury. Had the roads been too muddy for Elizabeth to pass? He knew the road his wife would take to arrive here. As much as he enjoyed their game, it was not as important as ensuring he knew his wife was well. And if something had delayed Elizabeth at Pemberley, then better to meet her there, charade or no.

At half-four, from outside came shouts.

The posting inn was at the edge of the main street. The market town was situated along the road, which allowed the village a great deal of traffic and contributed to its prosperity.

Darcy stepped out of the posting inn and onto the muddy thoroughfare.

The noise was not, as expected, a minor altercation between villagers; instead, a group of men were trying to take hold of a driverless carriage.

Darcy’s guts froze. The carriage was his. He ran to it. “Elizabeth!” he shouted. But there was no response.

What happened to the driver and footman? The carriage itself was damaged, the left side scraped and scarred. One door had torn off, and the other swung, rapping against the frame as carriage moved.

Darcy called out again, “Elizabeth!”

Four village men had caught hold of the carriage, one leaping into the driver seat to pull the horses to a halt.

One of the village men called out, “Is this yours?”

“My wife was to meet me here,” Darcy said, climbing into the carriage. No sign of Elizabeth. “I have to find her!”

If it was highwaymen, they might have taken Elizabeth for ransom. But if they had done that, would they not have taken the carriage, with two fine mounts, which would fetch a good price if sold?

It hardly mattered. If they demanded a ransom, he would pay. He had money. He would spend it to ensure his wife safely returned.

But if there had been another mishap, if Elizabeth had been in the carriage and come to harm, perhaps been thrown and now lay, near death, at the roadside… Darcy could not wait.

He turned to one of the men and said, “I need a horse. Now. Please.”

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You Are Reading:

Darcy's Stolen Rendezvous Cover

Abduction. Rescue. Can passion heal their wounds?

Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy enjoy meeting in secret as master and mistress. But when Elizabeth is abducted on the road to their rendezvous, can Mr. Darcy find his wife in time? And if so, will passion heal their wounds?

Find out in Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous, a steamy Pride and Prejudice variation of 11,500 words, filled with danger, romance, and sensual moments between our favorite couple, all perfect for an evening read. 

Note: This is a sequel to Mrs. Darcy’s Masque Seduction. Each story stands alone, but are even better together. 

If you love sensual Pride & Prejudice variations, grab Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous today!

Read More:

Darcy's Stolen Rendezvous Graphic

Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous – Chapter 1

The afternoon sky hung gray and heavy over Pemberley, an ill portent for the afternoon ride to the posting inn and an excellent one for the evening with her husband. After ten days apart, Elizabeth would spend the evening tangled in Mr. Darcy’s arms as the rain pounded the posting inn’s roof.

Read More »
Darcy's Stolen Rendezvous Graphic

Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous – Chapter 2

Mr. Darcy arrived early at the posting inn, his body tingling with anticipation of meeting his mistress and wife. It had been ten days since he had kissed her, ten days since he had brought her to shuddering pleasure, and ten days since he had lost himself in her glorious heat. Ten days was ten days too long, handling business in town which he could have ignored.

Read More »
Darcy's Stolen Rendezvous Graphic

Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous – Chapter 4

Elizabeth picked up her skirts and ran. The rain fell harder, rolling down her face and stinging her eyes. Branches and wet leaves made moving difficult, but she gathered up her skirts and kept moving. At least her love of walking in the country made it easier for to pick her path.

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Darcy's Stolen Rendezvous Graphic

Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous – Chapter 7

Darcy straddled the footman. His fury ran cold, a burning ice that made him want to hurt the man again. Elizabeth was here, and as much as he wanted to hear Mr. Grimes’ bones crunch beneath his feet, his wife deserved better. Elizabeth had married a gentleman, not a thug like this waste of humanity beneath him.

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When a naughty Mrs. Darcy finds her husband sleepwalking, she seizes the opportunity to fulfill both their desires. But what happens when he wakes?

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy knows her husband has a secret. Why else would he curb his passion and flee their marital bed every night? When she finds him walking in his sleep, and his hidden passion is unleashed, naughty Elizabeth seizes the opportunity to fulfil both their desires. But what happens when he wakes?

Find out in Darcy’s Hidden Desire, a steamy Pride and Prejudice variation of 11,500 words of romance, passion, and, of course, a sensual HEA. Perfect for an evening read.

Grab Darcy’s Hidden Desire at the links below!

More venders: Kobo & Smashwords Coming Soon!

Read More...

Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous – Chapter 1

Darcy's Stolen Rendezvous Graphic
Days
Hours
Minutes
Seconds
Darcy's Stolen Rendezvous Cover

Abduction. Rescue. Can passion heal their wounds?

Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy enjoy meeting in secret as master and mistress. But when Elizabeth is abducted on the road to their rendezvous, can Mr. Darcy find his wife in time? And if so, will passion heal their wounds?

Find out in Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous, a steamy Pride and Prejudice variation of 11,500 words, filled with danger, romance, and sensual moments between our favorite couple, all perfect for an evening read. 

Note: This is a sequel to Mrs. Darcy’s Masque Seduction. Each story stands alone, but are even better together. 

If you love sensual Pride & Prejudice variations, grab Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous today!

Chapter 1

The afternoon sky hung gray and heavy over Pemberley, an ill portent for the afternoon ride to the posting inn and an excellent one for the evening with her husband. After ten days apart, Elizabeth would spend the evening tangled in Mr. Darcy’s arms as the rain pounded the posting inn’s roof.

Not that they would be together as husband and wife; tonight, she would make love to him as a mistress and he the master of her pleasure.

They had hired Mr. Grimes, a new footman, a month ago, after the birth of Elizabeth’s second daughter and when they agreed Philippa, the illegitimate child of Mr. Darcy’s cousin, would live at Pemberley for the foreseeable future. They’d taken on a new carriage and driver as well.

Driver and footman now stood in front of the carriage, their heads close in what appeared to be a serious conversation as Elizabeth approached.

Neither man appeared to notice her. The breeze carried a few words of their conversation, “Are you certain—no danger —?”

Elizabeth glanced at the sky again. The air smelled of rain, but she neither saw lightning nor heard thunder. An autumn storm. Inconvenient, but hardly dangerous, unless a lady rode a horse bareback in nothing but riding clothes and found herself thoroughly drenched.

Elizabeth smiled at the memory. The Darcys and Bingleys, now neighbors, shared dinner at one or the other’s home near every week. It was one of the many joys of Elizabeth’s married life.

Elizabeth said, “It seems an ordinary autumn storm. Are you concerned?”

“No, ma’am.” The driver, Mr. Carlisle, gave a start and stepped away from Mr. Grimes. Both bowed. Mr. Carlisle laughed. It sounded forced. “I’ve a fine rain slicker from my wife, and this hat.” He held out a wide-brimmed peasant hat that looked serviceable.

Mr. Grimes walked to the carriage door and held it open. “Mrs. Darcy,” he said. There was nothing improper in his manner, but Elizabeth disliked his gaze. His sharp gray eyes were as flat as the silver coins laid upon the dead. They narrowed as he caught her gaze.

Perhaps Mr. Grimes disapproved of her cosmetics. She had sprinkled rice powder over her face and rouged her lips and cheeks, painted a line above her lashes at Philippa’s insistence. The effect, Philippa had said, was subtle, but assured Elizabeth she would catch her husband’s attention.

Not that Elizabeth had any business taking advice of this sort from a fifteen-year-old girl, no matter her mother had been an Opera house singer.

If Elizabeth shared her dislike of Mr. Grimes with her husband, Mr. Darcy would send him away, but Elizabeth saw no reason to be cruel. He had done nothing. So she smiled, nodding, and accepted his help into the carriage. Elizabeth’s small trunk was loaded at the rear of the carriage with clothing to see Elizabeth through the night and morning and possibly another night should she and her husband extended their stay.

Mr. Grimes closed the door and took his place at the carriage rear with the trunk as Mr. Carlisle climbed into the driver’s seat, and they were away.

In the carriage, Elizabeth opened a slim volume of ancient eroticism titled Daphnis and Chloe, translated from the Greek, which her husband had given her to read before his departure. The pages were worn, and Elizabeth flipped through them, imagining her husband’s hands on her, his mouth, and his manhood a flowering tree, sweet wine against her skin.

The story set a hot curl of desire in her core, but it did not compare to her anticipation of her husband’s touch.

No, not her husband. Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth flipped through the book as she rode, the words lighting fantasies in her mind as her womanhood grew warm and slick. It was two hours to the nearest posting inn, and the bounce of the carriage sent tingles of pleasure through Elizabeth. Perhaps she and her husband could have their way with each other again on the way home. They need only draw the curtains and hide each other’s moans in deep kisses.

Elizabeth ran her tongue between her lips. Outside, the sky had darkened, so much so she could not see the words of the book. She put the book aside and considered slipping her hands beneath her skirt to feel her desire. But she did not wish to spend herself too soon. She wanted Mr. Darcy’s hand to bring relief and had wicked ideas of how she might, once more, earn his forgiveness; though, after a year and a half of this game, neither put much effort into refining the misdeed for which she required forgiveness.

The carriage slowed. It had been just an hour by her estimation. Elizabeth looked out of the window. No busy market thoroughfare or posting inn greeted her eyes. Instead, it was the road with fields at one end and trees on the other. Whatever was the matter? The carriage rocked as Mr. Grimes jumped down and walked past the carriage door towards the driver.

If Elizabeth was more proper, she would have waited in the carriage for Mr. Grimes to return and tell her what was wrong. But after another minute, her curiosity burned, and Elizabeth opened the carriage door and stepped out.

Elizabeth looked to her left and to her right. They had pulled over at the side of the road, which ahead took a sharp turn. A drop of rain touched Elizabeth’s cheeks. She pulled her bonnet down over her forehead.

The carriage had moved smoothly enough. Was something wrong with the horses? When Elizabeth was twelve, she and her sister Jane had visited the Gardiners and one of the carriage axles had broken. Then, the carriage had lurched awfully before stopping. Nothing of the sort had happened here. Elizabeth walked to the front of the carriage.

Mr. Carlisle was not in the driver’s seat. From the opposite side, Elizabeth heard them speaking.

“Do you think we can move it?”

Elizabeth climbed up onto the empty driver’s seat to see to what the two men were referring. Both men had their back to the carriage, looking out at a small path, barely wide enough for a carriage, leading from the main road. A tree had fallen across it.

Elizabeth looked towards the main road again. It was clear. There was no reason for them to stop here and no reason to take the alternative route. “Why are you looking there?” Elizabeth asked.

Both men whipped around.

“Mrs. Darcy!” Mr. Carlisle grabbed at the top of his rain hat, pulling it askew on his head. “You should go back to the carriage.”

“Why have we stopped?”

Mr. Carlisle gave her a weak smile. “There’s no reason for concern. Please, return to the carriage.”

“I should like to know why we have stopped and what business we have with that road,” Elizabeth said, pointing. Though calling it a road was an exaggeration.

“Get back in the carriage!” Mr. Grimes ordered.

Elizabeth’s heart pounded. These men were servants. They had no business speaking to her in such a manner. Mr. Carlisle at least had the grace to look nervous. Mr. Grimes’ face flushed, and his eyes narrowed as he pulled something from behind his back. The glint of steel. 

“Grab her!” Mr. Grimes shouted.

Elizabeth took the reins as Mr. Carlisle circled the front of the carriage and Mr. Grimes, younger and in much better health, closed the three steps and began to climb up, grabbing at her. Elizabeth whipped the reins as she had seen other drivers do.

“Mrs. Darcy. Do not do anything rash!” Mr. Carlisle leaped out of the way as the horses began to move.

On the seat, Elizabeth shifted away from Mr. Grimes, kicking out as she continued whipping the reins. Mr. Grimes pulled himself up just as one of Elizabeth’s feet, covered not by a dainty slipper but a sensible, heavy walking boot, connected with Mr. Grimes’ chin.

“Ooof!”

Elizabeth kicked again. Between her struggles and the carriage’s rattling, the footman lost his hold.

“Go!” Elizabeth cried, waving the reins again. The horses were trotting now, and Elizabeth’s stomach lurched as the carriage careened towards the bend ahead on the road. She tried pulling the reins to direct the horses, but they were racing, and Elizabeth did not know what to do.

Desperate, she yanked on the right rein, or maybe the left, to get the horses to turn. They did, and the carriage rattled, wheels screaming, as they turned. Elizabeth’s teeth slammed together as carriage lurched, barely avoiding a large tree before returning to the road.

Behind her, both men shouted, but their voices faded as the horses ran blindly ahead, and Elizabeth struggled to hang on. At least they were on the road again. Rain tapped Elizabeth’s face. She held onto the reins to steady herself as they approached a second turn. This was not as sharp is the first, and Elizabeth guided her horses left.

But the animals, already panicked, mouths frothing and sides shining with sweat, startled and veered too far, no longer skirting but now careening between two trees. The carriage slammed into one, and the impact threw Elizabeth from the driver’s seat. She flew, hit the ground and slid. Pain stabbed through her left shoulder.

The horses kept on, dragging the broken carriage away.

Terrified, Elizabeth looked down the road from where she had come. She had gotten away, but not far enough. Mr. Carlisle and Mr. Grimes would follow, and if she stayed here, they would catch her. Shoulder throbbing, Elizabeth lifted her skirts with her opposite hand and ran into the woods.

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Darcy's Stolen Rendezvous Cover

Abduction. Rescue. Can passion heal their wounds?

Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy enjoy meeting in secret as master and mistress. But when Elizabeth is abducted on the road to their rendezvous, can Mr. Darcy find his wife in time? And if so, will passion heal their wounds?

Find out in Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous, a steamy Pride and Prejudice variation of 11,500 words, filled with danger, romance, and sensual moments between our favorite couple, all perfect for an evening read. 

Note: This is a sequel to Mrs. Darcy’s Masque Seduction. Each story stands alone, but are even better together. 

If you love sensual Pride & Prejudice variations, grab Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous today!

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Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous – Chapter 1

The afternoon sky hung gray and heavy over Pemberley, an ill portent for the afternoon ride to the posting inn and an excellent one for the evening with her husband. After ten days apart, Elizabeth would spend the evening tangled in Mr. Darcy’s arms as the rain pounded the posting inn’s roof.

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Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous – Chapter 2

Mr. Darcy arrived early at the posting inn, his body tingling with anticipation of meeting his mistress and wife. It had been ten days since he had kissed her, ten days since he had brought her to shuddering pleasure, and ten days since he had lost himself in her glorious heat. Ten days was ten days too long, handling business in town which he could have ignored.

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Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous – Chapter 4

Elizabeth picked up her skirts and ran. The rain fell harder, rolling down her face and stinging her eyes. Branches and wet leaves made moving difficult, but she gathered up her skirts and kept moving. At least her love of walking in the country made it easier for to pick her path.

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Darcy’s Stolen Rendezvous – Chapter 7

Darcy straddled the footman. His fury ran cold, a burning ice that made him want to hurt the man again. Elizabeth was here, and as much as he wanted to hear Mr. Grimes’ bones crunch beneath his feet, his wife deserved better. Elizabeth had married a gentleman, not a thug like this waste of humanity beneath him.

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When a naughty Mrs. Darcy finds her husband sleepwalking, she seizes the opportunity to fulfill both their desires. But what happens when he wakes?

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy knows her husband has a secret. Why else would he curb his passion and flee their marital bed every night? When she finds him walking in his sleep, and his hidden passion is unleashed, naughty Elizabeth seizes the opportunity to fulfil both their desires. But what happens when he wakes?

Find out in Darcy’s Hidden Desire, a steamy Pride and Prejudice variation of 11,500 words of romance, passion, and, of course, a sensual HEA. Perfect for an evening read.

Grab Darcy’s Hidden Desire at the links below!

More venders: Kobo & Smashwords Coming Soon!

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Mrs. Darcy’s Masque Seduction – Chapter 1

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Chapter 1

Author’s Note: This is the unedited, first draft of my first steamy Pride and Prejudice Variation. I hope you enjoy it! 

Fitzwilliam kissed like a man drowning. He held Elizabeth close, one hand on the small of her back, the other cupping her head, his tongue slipping between her parted lips, his manhood hard against her belly. It was enough to make Elizabeth forget his mistress in London.

If he had a mistress.

Elizabeth did not know for sure. She knew he had lied to her though, his steward stating no knowledge of sudden repairs or disaster at their London townhouse. Mrs. Lavinia Dorset, neighbors and old family friends of Mr. Darcy the elder, insisted a mistress the most likely reason Mr. Darcy so frequently visited his London townhouse alone.

Mrs. Dorset’s proclamation had knocked the breath from Elizabeth’s lungs. A week later, doubts knotted Elizabeth’s guts, resting in the back of her throat taste like acid as she and their two children waved their father goodbye for the third time in as many months.

“Dinna fret, childer,” the nanny Sophie, a round-faced Scottish lass with long, auburn hair in braids the nape of her neck, said, patting Elizabeth’s youngest, Emma, on the head. “Your da will return in the flick of a horse’s tail.”

Emma, a dark-haired three-year-old possessed of Fitzwilliam’s quiet nature and thoughtful squint, nodded.

Her five-year-old brother, Aldous, laughed. “A poopy horse?” he said, slapping his hand over his mouth, dark eyes twinkling as honey-brown curls bounced on his forehead.

“Shh!” Emma admonished, stamping her foot and glaring at her brother.

Aldous laughed again.

Elizabeth schooled her face into a serious expression even as inside she smothered a laugh. She loved the children with every fiber of her soul. Though she might doubt her husband, she could never doubt them. Soon, within six months if she measured her monthly courses accurately, she and Fitzwilliam would be blessed with a third child. Surely then, her husband would stay home. Or perhaps a mewling infant would drive him further away. Some men, like Mr. Hurst, avoided their babies until they were old enough for, in his words, ‘a proper conversation.’

No, not Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth might question his fidelity, but not the evidence of his fatherly affection. Fitzwilliam had loved holding his infant children. Even as they grew older, he took time to play with Aldous and Emma, more often than other fathers of their elevated class, as Elizabeth had learned.

If only Lavinia had not put these notions in Elizabeth’s mind. Fitzwilliam, a mistress? Elizabeth had married for love, and she had a wonderful life and family. It was foolish to question her good fortune. She wanted to banish her doubts, and for the next few hours she did, joining Sophie and the children in the nursery, playing games and reading aloud to them as she did often, wanting them to love books as much as she did.

Elizabeth put her doubts far from her mind through the morning and for a picnic lunch after which Emma and Aldous waded gleefully in the fountain in defiance of the early summer heat.

A moment of joy, quickly dashed, rose in Elizabeth as she saw a carriage approaching the house and recognized it was not her husband, changing his mind about his sudden, town business, and instead bore the Dorset seal.

Mrs. Dorset made a habit of popping in around tea time. She had three children of her own, all boys, two of school age, and one in the care of a nanny. None of the boys were in attendance today, which meant they were running about her estate or summering with their cousins near the sea. Likely the former as Mrs. Dorset was not one to forego the opportunity to travel.

Sophie said, “I’m supposing it is Wednesday. Mrs. Dorset invites herself for tea on Wednesdays.”

Normally, a servant would not be so forward in her admonishment of a guest, but Elizabeth and Sophie had grown close over the years and Elizabeth was not one to be strict about proprieties in any sense. Especially as she agreed Mrs. Dorset took liberties, both in her self-invitation and her intimations that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy might be unfaithful.

But Elizabeth knew better than to cut the woman, no matter how well she might deserve it. Mrs. Dorset held the regard of many important ladies in the area, and while Elizabeth had higher status due to her husband’s wealth and relations, Mrs. Dorset could make Elizabeth’s life miserable if she chose.

So Elizabeth left her children, after giving each a kiss on the forehead, with Sophie and made her way to find out what their neighbor wanted today.

“Oh, Mrs. Darcy, you poor dear, out laboring in this heat!” Mrs. Dorset waved a fan over her face. She was a stout, fashionably dressed woman of five and forty. Grey strands wove through her brown hair, which she wore in a knot of elaborate braids, curls framing her face. In her time, she had been a beauty, and the bones of it remained in the regal sweep of her nose, height of her cheeks, clear blue eyes, and excellent posture.

Mrs. Dorset looked over Elizabeth, skin flushed from exertion and browned in the sun, and said, “Your love of nature is laudable, but perhaps it be best not to exert oneself so in the summer months.” She cocked her head, “Especially when one is expecting.”

Expecting! How did she know? Elizabeth lowered her gaze. “We have not spoken with the midwife.”

Mrs. Dorset grinned. “I thought it might be with your youngest just turned three. Mr. Darcy knows?”

“We have not shared it.” Though now, Mrs. Dorsett’s loose tongue would ensure the neighbors and all neighboring villages knew of the Darcy’s news. “We are not certain, as yet.”

“Yes. Yes, the midwife. You are sturdy, I must say. With good hips for birthing, thanks be to the Lord.”

Elizabeth smiled, feeling more like a horse being assessed at market then a friend. Which, despite Mrs. Dorset’s frequent visits and advice, they were not. Elizabeth said, “It is hardly a trial to picnic with one’s children. What brings you all this way?”

“Mr. Darcy is not in attendance?”

“No,” Elizabeth said, the doubts she had so diligently stifled once again rising. “He is once more to town.”

“As I thought!” Mrs. Dorset took Elizabeth’s hands and squeezed. “I thought it was his carriage that passed by our home. It was far off to discern the exact make, but…” She glanced at the entrance to Pemberley, Elizabeth, knowing propriety offered her little choice, said, “Come inside. It is warm, as you say. I will have a maid bring us refreshments.”

Mrs. Dorset grinned. “Have you those finger pastries, with the strawberries, your cook offered last week? They were divine!”

“We were not expecting company, but I am sure cook has something one hand.” It was the closest to admonishment Elizabeth could manage.

They sat, drink tea, as Mrs. Dorset relayed her noticing Mr. Darcy’s carriage, which he presumed must’ve been his, and repeated admonitions for Elizabeth not to worry but to focus her attention on home and family as was her probable as wife and mother.”

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, not wishing to use her husband’s given name the presence of Mrs. Dorset who read too much into the slightest information. “Has seemed well… satisfied… In our marriage and…” Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed. “Fully involved in all the activities of a husband.”

Mrs. Dorset laughed. “With a third child on the way, I suspect so. Men are always interested in bed play.”

“So I do not believe a lack of interest is… at all…”

“Oh, Mrs. Darcy! Dissatisfaction does not lead men astray. A gentleman will enjoy his prized cook’s meals and still seek satiation elsewhere. Do not worry of it. Or speak of it. They always come home.” Mrs. Dorset took a third finger tart and bit into it.

Elizabeth sipped her tea. “Mr. Darcy does not seek novelty.”

Mrs. Dorset laughed. “All gentlemen crave novelty, Mrs. Darcy. I suspect he is off to join her at that masquerade ball. My husband and I were invited, but town is a horror in summer. The stench!”

Elizabeth cocked her head. “My husband was invited to no ball.”

Mrs. Dorset asked, “Are you certain?”

“Mr. Darcy is not fond of dancing, or small talk, or large groups of people,” Elizabeth said.

“As you say,” Dorset finished her tart. “As you say.”

Elizabeth took another sip of her tea. The subject shifted, and Mrs. Dorset mentioned the Midsummer Festival village held every year. “Your husband will have returned by then, certainly,” Dorset said.

As it is six weeks from today, I should hope so,” Elizabeth said. And Fitzwilliam would return by then, but would he leave again after?

Finally, Mrs. Dorset left, and Elizabeth had dinner in the nursery with her children before returning to her cold, empty bed.

Mr. Darcy would not have gone to London to attend a ball, costumed or otherwise. The idea was ridiculous! If anyone had invited them to such an affair, Mr. Darcy would have declined.

And yet, the suspicion lingered. Elizabeth knew she had no business puttering about her husband’s study, but, after half an hour of pretending interest in a novel she had been, before her husband’s departure and Mrs. Dorset’s visit, excited to read, Elizabeth snapped the volume closed and, taking a candle, went to her husband’s study.

She would not open his correspondence. She trusted her husband, and he deserved his privacy. As she did. But it would do no harm to glance at the shape of the letters on his desk, if there were any unopened. She would see if there were any invitations, either upon his writing desk or, more likely, thrown away.

She could not be faulted for that.

Elizabeth slipped into the room. Unlike Elizabeth’s writing desk, which was a mess of half-finished missives and notes to herself, Mr. Darcy’s desk was clear. Orderly. Elizabeth opened the desk to look inside. Not to open any of his correspondence, simply to note what was present. She saw no invitation.

Elizabeth glanced at the wastebasket. A paper lay crumpled up inside.

Elizabeth stared at it. Her fingers itched. If he had thrown it away, that hardly counted as a violation of his privacy.  After a moment more deliberation, Elizabeth knelt, took the letter from the wastebasket and flattened on the desk, running her fingers over the surface to remove the creases.

Elizabeth’s stomach clenched at the looping script. The paper was scented with rose-water, and the words that followed cloyed at her throat.

My Dearest Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy,

How is it you promise to care for me and then, at your convenience, leave me alone to rot? I cannot bear it.

I will be at the Lord Whitmore’s costumed ball. The invitation is enclosed. If you cannot be persuaded to return from your country manor to retrieve me, I suppose I must offer my dance to another.

With Great Affection,

Phillipa

Elizabeth’s hands shook. Mrs. Dorset’s words rang in her mind. Not that Mr. Darcy was dissatisfied, but he craved novelty. Elizabeth had thought herself enough, but this harlot had tempted him away.

But if Fitzwilliam had a kept woman, it was not clear in their household finances, which he made no efforts to hide. With as much wealth as Mr. Darcy possessed, it was as likely he had some small income hidden away somewhere. Or perhaps he had hidden the income required for his mistress’ keeping as some other expense. The townhouse had flooded last autumn. Or so Mr. Darcy had said. They had not visited London together since the previous spring.

Elizabeth dropped into her husband’s chair. Her stomach roiled. She folded the letter into her palm and put her head in her open hands. The paper crinkled against her forehead. She swallowed.

What was she to do? Elizabeth had no guarantee this Phillipa was her husband’s mistress. If asked, true or not, Fitzwilliam would deny it. Elizabeth needed proof.

Sophie could manage the children for a short time, and the household would manage itself. What Elizabeth could not manage was the waiting. Better to find out her husband had betrayed her than eat herself alive with doubts.

The date for the ball was a week from now. It was enough time for Elizabeth go to London and secure an invitation. She would stay with her aunt and uncle and make no mention of her presence to Mr. Darcy until the ball.

Perhaps Mr. Darcy had not fallen into bed with another woman? Perhaps there was another reason for this lady’s effusive letter? Or perhaps he had succumbed, but only once? Perhaps this Phillipa was blackmailing him?

Mr. Darcy could not love this woman. It was, at worst, novelty.

Elizabeth would not lose her husband to the allure of novelty. If Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy had been seduced, then by all in this world, Elizabeth would find out the truth, and win him back, if she could.

Or end it.

Thank you for Reading! I’d love to know what you think of this book. Feel free to leave a comment below!

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Can Elizabeth seduce Mr. Darcy a second time?

Fearing Mr. Darcy has taken a London mistress, Elizabeth follows her husband to a Masque ball to uncover the truth. Has he betrayed her, or is she betraying him? And can she seduce him a second time?

Mr. Darcy would never stray from his wife. But holding this masked beauty in his arms, he is tempted. Will forbidden desire destroy their marriage or save it?

Find out in Mrs. Darcy’s Masque Seduction, a sensual Pride and Prejudice variation of 11,500 words, perfect for an evening read.

Grab Mrs. Darcy’s Masque Seduction at the links below!

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Mrs. Darcy’s Masque Seduction – Chapter 3

Elizabeth would have quite enjoyed the waltz had she not been pretending to be someone else. Fitzwilliam wanted her. Elizabeth knew her husband well enough to know when he wanted her. It filled Elizabeth both with gratification and fury. Her husband wanted her, not as herself, but as a loose facsimile of a goddess of lust.

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Enjoying this book? You might also like....

When a naughty Mrs. Darcy finds her husband sleepwalking, she seizes the opportunity to fulfill both their desires. But what happens when he wakes?

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy knows her husband has a secret. Why else would he curb his passion and flee their marital bed every night? When she finds him walking in his sleep, and his hidden passion is unleashed, naughty Elizabeth seizes the opportunity to fulfil both their desires. But what happens when he wakes?

Find out in Darcy’s Hidden Desire, a steamy Pride and Prejudice variation of 11,500 words of romance, passion, and, of course, a sensual HEA. Perfect for an evening read.

Grab Darcy’s Hidden Desire at the links below!

More venders: Kobo & Smashwords Coming Soon!

Read More...